The joy of womanhood
Afia Nkwo,the only market that ever stood
In Abiriba,rewarding us so good,
Here,your honour dwells
Attention!buy me,has been the song of the bells.
We are your folks,whom you feed
A bowl of food,you are indeed
Morning and night,we call for our daily need,
Though inflation and rain are all your pains
But your spirit of abundance remains.
One day, my lips grew dumb
Seeing the awesome breeze as they come
that takes people without a ransom,
Immediately, my chain fell to the ghost’s casket
Alarming the presence of immortals in the market.
Tainting sound,I hear
Seeing ghost in white and clear
The breeze turns and persevere,
Up and down,goes waterproof and some basket
Lo, its a still place in the market.
The ghost said,”Lets play”
He softly sung all day
Really,its a dream that i had someday
And wakes on a bed so wet
Wondrous,Its a still place in the market.
